


To Have, To Hold

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Fluff, Implied Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, words aren't needed between the two. Sometimes their actions speak louder, and often, holding him in his arms is really all he needs. </p>
<p>In which, it's a cold night in Camelot, and Arthur decides to spend a quiet moment with Merlin by the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have, To Hold

It's cold that night, the low crackle of the fire being the only sound audible in the room. It gives off little light, but it lights enough for Arthur to see the lines of worry illuminating Merlin's face.

He doesn't ask—he knows Merlin won't tell him anyway. Merlin is ever the secret keeper. If there's something he doesn't want Arthur knowing, he won't tell him. He'll take whatever secret it is to the grave if it comes to it, if he deems it that important. So he doesn't ask. But it's clear something is wrong. 

Merlin sits in front of the fireplace, legs sprawled out in front of him. He stares into the fire intently, almost as if he stares long enough, it will reveal something important to him, something he desperately needs to see. His eyes seem almost distant, like his body is a shell, and Merlin is long gone, somewhere far away in the deep recesses of his mind, searching. For what, Arthur probably will never know.

Arthur watches as Merlin shifts, finally, bringing his legs in to sit cross-legged, but his eyes don't waver from the fire. It tugs at Arthur's heart to see him in such a state, looking so sullen and so _full_ of anguish but so _empty_ and void of anything at all. He aches for him, and yet, he doesn't know what he aches for.

The king takes a risk, and walks over, boots making a light clacking sound on the shining floor. He eases down to his knees, and he knows Merlin is listening to him, pondering his next move, but he knows without a doubt Merlin will not expect what it is he'll give him. He's not sure he'll understand it either, but the desire for him to do so is too great for him to ignore. Once, just this once, he wants to be _Arthur_ and not _The King_ , just as he wants Merlin to just be _Merlin_ and not _The Servant_. 

Slowly, Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin's middle, tugging at his waist before pulling him closer to his own body. He craves the feeling of the contact, the warm spread of heat throughout his torso. He can feel the sharp intake of the servant's breath, but his grip doesn't falter. He leans forward a bit and rests his chin in the crook of Merlin's neck and shoulder, gazing into the fire. He doesn't speak a word, doesn't dare to, and after a few moments, Merlin's joints seem to relax, and very carefully, his own hands meet Arthur's, resting gently on his callous fingers. 

The servant leans back into him a bit, and Arthur shifts again, sitting now flat against the floor, legs positioned on either side of him, and as if on cue, Merlin repositions his own legs, curling them up only slightly out in front of him. He hears Merlin sigh, but it's not an uncomfortable sigh—it's calm, content, and Arthur likes the sound of it on his ears.

With one hand still secure around his waist, Arthur brings his other hand up, and after just a second of hesitation, pulls his head back from his shoulder and begins to comb his fingers through Merlin's hair, letting the simple gesture lull the boy to sleep. It's rather successful, he gathers later, because the boy practically melts in his arms after that, and though he can't see his face, he knows Merlin's struggling to keep his eyes open. 

He wants to ask now, Arthur desperately wants to ask what is bothering him. He wants to know if it's the magic, if he's worried about what Arthur will think, but he doesn't dare tread the line yet. He wants Merlin to tell him when he's ready. He won't force it out of him, Arthur promised himself that long ago. He's known for a long time, and while once, he was angry, and betrayed, those feelings linger no longer. So when Merlin tells him, he'll be ready. He sighs quietly to himself when he believes Merlin to be asleep.

Arthur assumes incorrectly, he notes only seconds later. Merlin is still very much awake. The boy wiggles a bit, as if asking to be let go, but Arthur won't have it. Instead, he grunts quietly in response, holding onto him even tighter. Merlin huffs, a touch of irritation hidden in the small puff of air. But he doesn't struggle, and Merlin relaxes once more in his hold, seemingly content again. 

He's not exactly sure how long the two of them sit there, watching the coals burn, popping occasionally. All Arthur knows is that eventually, the fire dies out, the embers barely simmering, reflecting little light in the room. It's even darker than earlier now; he's not cold as he suspected himself to be, but he supposes that's because there's another body pressed against his, and it's all the warmth he needs. 

Merlin taps his arm, tilting his head around to look him in the face. It's the first time Merlin's attempted to look at him since he sat. His face is nearly expressionless, the small hints of a frown pulling at his lips, azure eyes piercing his own. He gives, and reluctantly, he removes his arms from Merlin's waist. Merlin stands, and moments later, Arthur follows his lead. The boy casts a glance at the wardrobe, then back to Arthur, raking his eyes up and down his attire, and wordlessly, Arthur nods, knowing what he's asking. 

It's still dark, but Merlin can still clearly see what he's doing. Carefully, Merlin kneels down and undoes the laces on his boots, and Arthur shrugs them off, tossing them somewhere in the room, and Merlin clicks his tongue in disapproval, lips pursing slightly. He mutters something along the lines of _stupid prat_ , but despite how disrespectful it is, it's probably the best thing he's heard all day. Merlin proceeds to undo the laces on his shirt, before pulling that off too. He goes to help him get his nightshirt on when Arthur simply snatches it from him, pulling it on quickly, earning a cocked eyebrow from his servant, and maybe the hints of an amused smile, now. He feels a smile of his own creep onto his lips, and he allows it, but he turns and heads towards the bed. 

Arthur feels Merlin's eyes on him as he walks, and as Arthur gets into bed, he hears the clatter of Merlin's feet heading towards the door. On impulse, Arthur clears his throat, stares at him, and Merlin stops mid-step, turning his head back at him. The king moves over a bit to the left, leaving a space next to him, and he raises an eyebrow expectantly. The servant merely stares, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, and to make it all the clearer, Arthur tugs back the covers, and gestures to the spot. The confusion quickly wipes itself from his features, but instead, it's replaced with a cough, and Arthur dare says he sees a blush on his pale face.

He does as told though, he comes to the bedside and takes of his boots, then, slowly, takes off his jacket and after a moment's thought, his scarf. He folds them both neatly and holds them for a moment, before setting them on the floor, by his boots. Merlin runs his tongue along his lower lip, swallows, and then his gaze drifts to the spot next to Arthur, as if contemplating if he even wants to lay there. Arthur clears his throat again, giving a small, good-natured glare and Merlin laughs quietly, breathlessly, before nodding. He crawls into the spot, and Arthur tossed the covers over top of him, and the heat soon follows. 

Merlin is tense, that much is obvious, as he's taking up as little space as possible. He's huddled into himself, facing away from him, as if he doesn't dare flip the other way. Arthur's lips quirk into a small, amused smirk, and he carefully reaches out again, craving to touch again, as he pulls Merlin closer to him once more, his chest flush against Merlin's back.

The boy doesn't flinch this time, doesn't panic or gasp, he just goes with it, relaxes into it, and Arthur buries his face in his hair, feeling warmth spread throughout him entirely. He breaths in, and his smile softens, the familiar smell of _Merlin_ somehow setting his mind at ease. 

Arthur closes his eyes, then, and feeling Merlin's gentle touch on his hands, he succumbs to sleep.


End file.
